The Complexities of Life
by Linkala
Summary: The complexities of life for children and visitors on Mobius were graphically illustrated for Christopher Thorndyke by a simple act of giving.


The Complexities Of Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Christopher Thorndyke or any other Sega characters.  
Authors Notes: Some of you may remember me from my other series, True Purpose. And if you are one of those people and are wondering why True Purpose hasn't been updated in a bloody long time, then I'm sorry. It's currently still going but I'm stuck at the moment, it will be updated as soon as possible. This story however is a oneshot, told from Christopher Thorndyke's point of view. This little story came to me during a Society & Culture period and it will illustrate how communication between different cultures can go horribly wrong.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

She was a beautiful little girl with straight red dreadlocks and wide, excited lilac eyes that seemed blissfully unaware of the complexities of life. The streets were her home; she had known nothing else. She slept on a mat in the tall grass behind a hotel fence. Her only possessions were her clothes and a red chaos emerald her father had given her, which was carried in a pouch around her waist.

Both her parents had died of a mysterious illness on Angel Island when she was four. After their deaths she quickly learnt to use the wings her mother's blood had granted her and flew away from the diseased island, ending up in the metropolis known as Station Square. Had she stayed on Angel Island she surely would have died of the virus that took her parents from her. That, or the government would have come and taken her to an orphanage where she could learn to harvest rice for twenty-five cents a day.

She was, I thought, better off living in Station Square. Here she could learn to beg and steal, a far more profitable way of life.

Without education, she and many like her on Mobius have no hope. The Government has a vested interest in keeping them ignorant, grateful for the little they receive and unaware of the huge amount they don't.

She was sitting at a café table with me. She touched my hand.

"You number one Christofar" she said, standing up and hugging me tightly around my midsection. "You number one Earth person"

This was a pretty big compliment, as she could only count to three. I was touched by this forthright show of affection. It wasn't an act. She wasn't pushy for money or food, just for love. She shared my meal. I felt wonderful that I could provide for her in so complete a way. And yet, at the same time, I was intimidated. Unlike Earth's children, Yuzuyu didn't need me to survive.

Other street kids told me she walked four kilometres to the beach every morning to bathe. Someone, perhaps even her parents, must have taught her the importance of hygiene. She was remarkably clean compared with the other street girls.

In the next few days, our friendship grew. Yuzuyu would wait for me at the bottom of the hotel steps and we would walk to the beach where she bathed. It was strange to follow her, so young, through the back streets of Station Square. It made me feel, in a way, inadequate. But then, at the very first sign of danger, such as a drunk or a gang member, she would come back to my side, and taking my hand, draw me away. With me she felt safe; we drew courage from each other.

Yuzuyu soon became devoted to me, and I to her. She made me feel like a father, and I think for perhaps the first time since her parents died, she felt someone loved her. Like any father back on Earth, I tried to express my love by buying her a gift. Strangely, though, she didn't seem interested in anything I offered her. She would share my food and my company, but she would accept nothing else.

During the day she would take me out in her little fishing ship. No bigger than a large washing basket, the tubs were used by locals to row from their boats to the shore. Being so large, I could easily have tipped the thing over, but Yuzuyu's skilled hands kept the craft on an even keel.

Although she could barely speak English, our understanding was very good. We developed a kind of English-Mobian dialogue, which, when accompanied by charades, was effective enough.

The night before I was due to return back to Earth, I explained to her that I would be going away. I expected she would be quite upset. Instead, she just smiled and said;

"Where you go to?"

She was not in the least distressed. I suppose loss was an emotion she had learnt to cope with years ago. It was for this reason I decided to buy her a gift, so she would have something with which to remember a happy time.

That night, as we usually did, we shared a dinner and she walked me back to her 'house'. As she climbed the fence she was careful that no one was watching, as she didn't want anyone to know where she lived.

As we were saying goodbye, I took out the gift I had bought and offered it to her.

"No, no" she said shaking her head.

I ruffled her dreadlocks and told her I would see her tomorrow. That night, rather than going back to the hotel as I usually did, I decided to walk down the beach. I could not understand why she would not accept my gift. Perhaps it meant more to me than to her.

I decided to catch a cab back to the hotel. On the way, I told the driver to pull over at Yuzuyu's. I jumped out and placed the gift over the fence next to the sleeping girl. Returning home I felt good about the fact that she would wake up and receive her first birthday present in such a long time.

The next morning at the hotel, I packed my bags and hurried down to see Yuzuyu. Strangely, she was not there to greet me as usual. I left my suitcase in the lobby and walked around the back to her home. I reached the brick wall and climbed up over it.

And there, lying semi-conscious on the ground, blood coming from her mouth and a cut above the eye, lay Yuzuyu.

My gift, of course, was gone. And I, blissfully unaware of the complexities of life, could not believe my own stupidity.

**END.**


End file.
